Chuck Vs The Postcard
by Afficted
Summary: Post-Season 2 Finale. All is not well. Physically and emotionally, there is pain. Rating changed to T with Chapter 5 because of profanity.
1. Chapter 1

**Howdy folks. I am new here, and even if I wasn't, I wouldn't own Chuck! So, first Fanfic. Have at ye.**

**Chuck Vs. the Postcard**

Doctors Ellie and Devon Woodcomb arrived home from their honeymoon one week to the day after their successful second wedding ceremony and reception.

Some ten minutes after arrival, they discovered the postcard, and Ellie let out her patented squeal of joy.

The card was from Barcelona. Sent by Chuck. He and Sarah had left, spur-of-the-moment, for the Europe trip that Ellie's kid brother had always wanted. They'd be back in two more weeks.

Ellie was beside herself with excitement. (So was Awesome, though his image of what Chuck might be doing was a tad different, based on recently-gained insight that he could not share with his new bride.)

First leaving the Buy More, now this. Chuck was growing up, and grabbing the life that Sarah's presence seemed to promise. Ellie reminded Devon that Chuck had often talked about this trip. His requirements had been a place with sun and fruity drinks. She was sure that those had been met, but even better, Chuck and Sarah were there, together. Chuck in Europe. An achieved dream that Ellie had always wanted for her brother.

And if Chuck _had_ been in Europe, he no doubt would have agreed with Ellie.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Washington D.C.

Well, it _was_ sunny, if a bit on the humid side.

Fruity drinks could be purchased in the local night spots, if Chuck had been allowed to go to them. Or drink.

However, Chuck Bartowski had given no thought to weather or alcoholic beverages. He was in too much physical and emotional discomfort to do so.

Physical, because of the damage he – _and the Intersect, let's not forget the Intersect, shall we?_ – had done to his body during his impromptu martial arts demonstration on Ellie's wedding night. Pain killers had taken some of the edge off, but even so. He was in a wheelchair for the time being, and although the physicians had assured him that he would heal from all of his injuries without permanent damage, Chuck found that hard to believe. The one bright spot was that he had gotten over his fear of needles – like _that_! He had never imagined that he would be asking – begging – for shots. However, waking up in the middle of the night, moaning in agony, had a way of changing one's perspective. Especially when injections could get the pain relief in your system that much faster.

Emotional, because… the most important person in his life wasn't there. Ellie would be upset to learn that Chuck and Sarah were _not_ together, but of course, Ellie's feelings were nothing compared to her brother's.

Chuck Bartowski had plenty of rough weeks in his adult years. As dangerous as his life had become in the last two, he never felt he would experience a nadir such as that when his best friend got him kicked out of Stanford, then his girlfriend dumped him, apparently for the same best friend. Yeah, those were tough weeks. Weeks that took him five years from which to recover, incidentally, because of actions taken by the same best friend.

Even so, Chuck was starting to think that this last week might give those weeks a run for their money.

Everything went to Hell when the best friend had died. Well, Bryce Larkin was no longer Chuck's best friend – hadn't been for some time. Bryce had betrayed Chuck, manipulated him, destroyed him, and put the lives of Chuck and his family in danger.

Apparently, though, this was all for the best of causes.

Chuck had only recently learned some more back story about Bryce's motivations, but he would never hear the rest.

Because Bryce died in front of Chuck.

And then…..

Chuck had made a decision.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

"You uploaded it? Charles…. Why…why in God's name did you do that?"

Stephen Bartowski was speaking in a loud whisper, but the expression in his face indicated that he was barely holding back screaming his question.

A grunt from above made Chuck turn his head to face Major – No, _Colonel_ John Casey.

The large man looked down at Chuck with his usual menacing glare and muttered, "I would also like to know the answer to that question… Charles." The tone on the last word felt insulting, and normally, Chuck would have expected Casey's mouth to draw up into an evil grin, whenever he got the chance to throw out an insult. But Casey wasn't smiling.

Chuck felt somebody else looking at him. He turned around to look at the woman who mattered to him most. Her back was turned, looking at Bryce's body. Had… had she been looking at Chuck just now? It felt like….

"Charles, answer my question, damn it!"

Chuck turned back to his father. The older man looked desperate. In pain.

Well, Chuck could appreciate pain. Right now, he was in more than he had ever previously experienced in his life. It was making it hard for him to think straight.

"Dad….. I'll be nnnn happy to answer your question, but I could…. Really…. Stand to be….. put unconscious… right nnnn now."

Chuck looked up at Casey, hopefully.

Casey raised an eyebrow, then said, "Much as I'd like to beat you down most of the time, I think you're gonna have to hold off until you give your old man and me a little info."

Suddenly Sarah was by his side. Hadn't she just been…?

She produced a hypodermic. "This will help alleviate some of it, Chuck. It's a needle, and I know you don't like-"

Chuck groaned. "Are you kidding? Give it here!"

Sarah's face was impassive. She injected the medicine.

Chuck felt some relief within minutes. It wasn't perfect but it definitely helped. Chuck was going to thank Sarah, but she had already turned back to Bryce. Chuck pursed his lips. Well, there was nothing for it. He turned back to his father, whose gaze had never left him.

"Answers, Son."

Chuck tried to shrug, then the pain shot back into him and he moaned.

_OK, no shrugging. _

He thought about what his father and Casey were asking. And the horrible truth was…..

Chuck wasn't really sure why he had done it.

After he had beaten up the Ring spies, the kung fu knowledge disappeared from Chuck's consciousness.

Unfortunately, the resolve and reason for his action seemed to go with the kung fu.

Chuck recalled walking from Bryce's body in a daze.

He had been instructed to destroy the new Intersect, and he was going to do it. Then Chuck had seen the "Activate" prompt and the hand print pad. Then those memories came into his mind, almost like…. Flashes.

_And I don't know why Bryce did this…_

_You can do anything…._

_It's time for you to become a spy…._

_How many times do you have to be a hero before you realize you ARE that guy?_

All of those images had combined into a sudden certainty and resolve for him then. He knew what he had to do.

And he did it.

Unfortunately, that certainty and resolve was gone. So when he gave the answer to his father and Casey,

"Dad, I did it because it had to be done. It was the right thing to do."

His voice felt… flat. Devoid of conviction.

Suddenly, Chuck had that feeling again of being watched. He turned to look at Sarah, but her back was again turned.

_DAMN IT!_

Chuck's father didn't immediately respond, but Casey did.

"He… did save our lives through his actions, Mr. Bartowski. If he hadn't – well, it's almost a certainty that Agent Walker and I would be dead or captured and that the enemy agents would have secured the Intersect for their own purposes."

Under any other circumstances, a statement like this from John Casey was virtually unheard of and would make Chuck swell with pride. However, he was swelling too much already to be able to do more, anyway; his father didn't appear the least bit proud or satisfied, and Sarah – Sarah might as well not even be in the same room as him.

Stephen Bartowski rubbed his hands over his face. "OK, I…. I just wish that this hadn't happened. Everything that was done to get that thing out of your head. And… and I'm not the one who put all those modifications in there so between that and the actual cube being destroyed, it may be difficult to get this Intersect out… but I swear to God, I won't stop until we manage it, Son."

Chuck paused, then said quickly and firmly,

"Dad, I think I need to keep the Intersect."

Something crashed behind them.

All three of them turned. Chuck saw Sarah, a tray of metal supplies at her feet. She was looking straight at him.

Her eyes… He had never seen this kind of… horror… in her eyes.

"Sarah?" Chuck whispered it. He didn't know what to make of what was going on. But, that look….

She turned and quickly exited the room. She didn't look back.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

He hadn't seen her since.

They hadn't spoken.

The next few days had him in and out of the hospital, seeing his father, seeing Casey, seeing Beckman.

He was sent to D.C. almost immediately. Not a bunker, thankfully, though he couldn't get any guarantees from anybody that wouldn't happen.

Still, Chuck was given help in writing the postcard for Ellie. It said he'd be back in two weeks. So… that seemed promising. Well, unless he was meant to die in "Europe". Maybe him and Sarah both. Not a pleasant thought. A terrifying thought, actually. He tried not to dwell on it. In fact, impending assassination was less scary for him than the thought of never seeing Sarah again, and he was starting to see that outcome as likely.

The only thing anybody would tell him was that she had gone to Cabo to scatter Bryce's ashes. No funeral for Agent Larkin. Bryce had already had one, even though he hadn't actually been dead _then_.

Chuck was hurt, of course. He would have liked to say his goodbyes to Bryce, and to honor him. He felt that he had the right to be there. Instead, he hadn't even been told that it was happening, until after it was too late.

He was hurt that Sarah hadn't told him. That she hadn't wanted him there for support.

Over the past few days, Chuck had a repeated thought that Sarah had blamed him for Bryce's death. That Bryce dying had convinced her that Bryce, indeed, had been the one.

Chuck thought about this quite a bit, actually, in a futile effort to keep the truth about Sarah's actions from the surface.

She had looked at him… like a freak. Maybe that's the way she saw him now.

Even that painful thought wasn't the real truth.

They had put in so much effort. She had almost sacrificed her career and her freedom to help liberate Chuck from the Intersect.

And he had thrown that back in her face. (And at the faces of Casey and his father, too.)

All this time, he had talked about wanting a normal life, and now, he wouldn't give up this thing in his head.

It wasn't a surprise that she would despise him. It wasn't a surprise… that they _all_ would.

Whenever that truth would come to the surface, Chuck would do his very best to go to sleep… so he wouldn't have to think about it.

Sleep wasn't too hard to come by. The muscle relaxers made him quite loopy. The fact that he was able to form coherent thoughts in the first place was miraculous. But, the thoughts _were_ there, all the same. He could only imagine the level of despair he'd be feeling once he was completely drug-free.

The answer he had given his father, about needing to keep the Intersect. He had spoken with conviction then. Without even thinking about it.

Why was that certainty something that only came by reflex? Why couldn't he be sure when he had time to put a thought together?

So passed five days.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Chuck didn't even realize she had returned until Casey wheeled him into the conference room.

Well, he _thought_ it was her. Her back was turned to them, and although she was _dressed_ the part, Chuck couldn't help recall the brief mistaken identity when he had first encountered Agent Forrest.

"Sarah?"

His voice was a mixture of hope and desperation.

She turned around. It _was_ her! Chuck couldn't keep himself from grinning. She looked...

His smile faltered. She looked... practically right through him.

"Hello Chuck. Casey." No warmth, there. None.

He had to find a way to salvage this. He was about to open his mouth to do so, when he was interrupted by General Diane Beckman crisply walking into the room.

"All right, let us proceed!" The General sat down at the head of the table, and briefly eyed each of them, before continuing on.

"Well, given the events of the prior week, I think it will be no surprise to any of you that Project Bartowski has officially been reopened, albeit with some necessary alterations.

Due to the compromising of the Castle, we have had to dismantle it and will have to re-establish it elsewhere. Similarly, I don't think we will have any of you returning to your prior cover employment."

Chuck and Casey breathed simultaneous sighs of relief at that one.

"We are in the process of developing a new cover employer, one in which all three of you will be together under the same roof, allowing necessary time for testing and training of the new Intersect without risk of further revelation. Given that this Intersect has properties yet to be fully realized, I'm sure you all understand why security is more important than ever. Yet, a bunker will not be the best way to ensure the effectiveness of this asset."

She looked at Chuck when she said that, but chose to ignore it when he groaned out profuse thank-you's.

Beckman continued. "That being the case, once a location has been finalized, we will maximize security by having Agent Walker and Mr. Bartowski live together."

Chuck gave a questioning grunt that had Casey nodding in approval.

Sarah's body stiffened at this latest piece of information, something that wasn't lost on anybody in the room.

Beckman looked at her. "Something to say, Agent Walker?"

Sarah spoke, her voice almost in a monotone. "Unfortunately, General, I am afraid that I must take this opportunity to request reassignment."

Chuck's mouth turned dry, as his stomach dropped through the floor. _Oh no. Ohnonononono._

Beckman's expression was stony. Well, it was usually that way, but even so.

"I see. And would you please elaborate as to the reason for this request, Agent?"

Sarah continued in her cold, dead voice. "Mr. Bartowski and I have developed inappropriate romantic feelings toward each other, and I am thus compromised, unable to effectively meet my responsibilities of protecting him, thus placing him and the project at risk."

He couldn't believe it. She was saying this in _front_ of him? How could she be _doing_ this? The air grew hot and stale. Chuck was having a hard time catching his breath. His fingers felt numb. He thought he was going to throw up.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Casey's. _Casey_ was being supportive? CASEY? Well, that was something anyway. If the two women in the room were aware of Chuck's distress, they certainly weren't showing it. Neither of them even put a glance his way.

Beckman's look didn't change. She didn't look surprised. At all.

She paused for but a moment before replying, "Request denied, Agent."

Sarah didn't move, or seem to react to this. But Chuck did.

He leaned forward as far out of his chair as he could without tumbling over, and yelled,  
"Hey, HEY! If she doesn't want to be here, LET HER GO!!! I DON'T WANT TO BE AROUND HER!" His voice was catching.

Sarah didn't turn around. Beckman spared Chuck a glance before calmly saying,

"Colonel Casey, please remove Mr. Bartowski from the room, and get him something to help him calm down."

Chuck looked wildly between the three of them – his gaze lingering on Sarah's back.

Casey moved forward, his voice soft but firm, "C'mon, Chuck."

Chuck shook silently for a moment. Then he slowly pulled himself back into his chair. He stared at nothing as Casey wheeled him out of the room.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

During this entire incident Sarah and Beckman hadn't taken their eyes off each other.

Once the door closed, Sarah spoke quietly.

"I think this illustrates fairly well, the problem, and the reason for necessary reassignment."

Beckman smiled. Thinly. Coldly.

"In spite of what you and Colonel Casey may think, Agent Walker, I am not stupid or the least bit gullible. The only reason you aren't in prison or an unidentified body is because I let you get away with it, and accepted the silly story the Colonel came up with. But I never once believed it."

Sarah kept her expression neutral.

Beckman added, "I've known about your little _thing_ with the Asset long before I had you evaluated. Ultimately, I've let you keep on what you were doing because as the three of you have shown again and again, that you could achieve _results_."

Sarah responded, "That was only dumb luck. Our feelings for each other have nearly led to disaster on multiple occasions, and could have gotten him killed! You... You would have been right to imprison me."

She looked down at the table. "Or worse."

Beckman let out a disparaging laugh. "Well, maybe so. But I notice you didn't come forward until now. Until maybe things weren't going quite the way you were hoping they would." Beckman raised her voice. "_Look _at me, Agent Walker, I am making a point!"

Sarah raised her gaze back to the General.

Beckman continued. "You're just a cry-baby, trying to quit, because you can't handle it when things get rough."

Sarah just looked back in shock.

Beckman scowled.

"Well, I'm not letting you off the hook. You're not being reassigned, you're not going to prison, I'm not going to have you killed, and oh, by the way, you're not quitting either, if you're thinking of that. You're going to STAY on assignment and you're going to keep producing results; otherwise, Chuck is going to suffer."

Sarah's expression suddenly changed and her face took on a deadly cast. She whispered,  
"Are you threatening.... to harm him?"

Beckman shook her head, her expression one of disgust.

"That man is one of the most important weapons this agency has at its disposal. Of COURSE, I'm not going to harm him! We need him! The person who is going to harm him - who is going to undermine EVERYTHING that we... and he... have accomplished is you... if you leave him."

Beckman paused, then growled, "And you _know_ it."

The General added, "The truth is, if we could have avoided this nightmare - this thing between the two of you - we _would_ have. But we didn't catch it soon enough and you weren't professional enough to recognize the danger and to get out when you should have. And now it is too late. Putting somebody new in right now to protect him would not work. He'd be damaged goods, pining... over _you_. We can't have that. You're going to work together. You are going to find a way to make this work."

Beckman stood up, gave one last look at the woman before her, and began to walk out of the room. Before exiting, she called over her shoulder,

"You made your bed Agent Walker. You know what to do with it."


	2. Chapter 2

**What's say we leave Chuck and Sarah alone for a bit to enjoy their misery, and visit with some other folks? Not that I own a single one of them. Shorter chapter, though there's actually space between paragraphs this time. (BTW, thanks everybody for all the reviews! Keep 'em coming, please?)**

____________________________________________________________________________________________

"Why do you think he wanted us to meet him here, Babe?"

Ellie stepped out of the car, stretched, then looked around.

"No idea. I'm just getting used to him being back in my life. Figuring out what he's thinking is too much effort. For now, anyway. Hm. Nice neighborhood."

Devon walked to Ellie and draped his arm over her shoulders. "That it is. Think he's got any friends out here?"

She shook her head. "I don't ever remember Dad being social, and anybody who he'd hang out with wouldn't live in a place like this. He was living in a trailer in the middle of nowhere, so-"

"So, I guess I'm coming up in the world."

Ellie and Devon jumped and turned to find Stephen Bartowski, right behind them.

Ellie let her breath out shakily. "Dad, please... don't do that. Where did you just come from, anyway?"

Her father shrugged absent-mindedly, passing his hand through his always-rumpled hair.

"I was just... strolling and admiring the street. Been awhile since I've been here. Hasn't changed much, though. Your Mom and I... we used to take walks around here... looking at the houses we couldn't afford. Way I figure it, with you... both being doctors, you're actually going to be able to get a home here."

Ellie laughed a little, taking in the scenery. "Um yeah. Even with home prices going down, I still think this is a ways out of our league."

Devon chuckled. "I dunno, Hon. Gotta be optimistic! We'll pay off the student loans, in what a decade or so?" He grinned. "But this isn't out of the realm of possibility. Someday."

Stephen frowned, and started down the street. A minute later, he realized they weren't with him, and he turned around and motioned them to catch up. Confused expressions on their faces, they did so. As he continued to walk, he said,

"You've both worked very hard and... Eleanor you did all that while taking care of your brother... and without your parents around as we should have been. You absolutely deserve to live well, but not.... someday."

He stopped and pointed at a beautiful large Victorian with a finely manicured lawn in front of it.

"Eleanor. Devon. Welcome home."

In the decade since he left his children, Stephen Bartowski took very little joy in anything.

The expression on his daughter's face just then.... was a welcome return to joy.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

"So, are you satisfied?"

Whereas he acted the part of the amiable and eccentric father with Eleanor, the Stephen Bartowski here was slightly different. He stood straight, not hunched over. His arms were crossed. And his eyes were not in the least bit warm.

He replied, "It is a start."

General Beckman eyed him closely. "Much more than a start, I hope. That house cost the government a pretty penny, what with all the extra equipment and-"

"It is a _start_." His gaze was so intense, even the normally unflappable Beckman was a little unnerved, but she hid it well.

"How'd they react to the news that you'd be living with them?"

Stephen chewed on his lower lip a little. "They accepted it, of course. I just bought them a house in a neighborhood far beyond their means. They're not going to complain. Yet. I anticipate that my daughter will have a few things to say about me attempting to buy her love. But I'm prepared for that." He paused.

"What about my other requirements?"

Beckman looked briefly at files in front of her, then said,

"Chuck will be able to stay at the apartment, and Agent Walker will move in with him. Casey will stay in the complex to provide added protection. All surveillance in the apartment will be removed, as you requested.... We'll transfer it to you."

Stephen nodded. "As long as my daughter and son-in-law are not being monitored, either. I'll be in charge of watching them now. You can watch me." He smiled humorlessly.

Beckman frowned at him. She had a feeling that keeping tabs on this man was not going to be as easy as he was making it sound. Well, no need to bring that up. "I still think this is a mistake. We should move them, the whole lot of them. Change their identities, the whole thing."

Stephen shook his head. "You know as well as I do that won't work. Chuck in a bunker is useless to you. And I'm not going to have him moved away from the people he loves. That's a lonely existence I know all too well, and I'm not going to put him through it. I'm also not going to have the lives of my daughter and her husband upended. Plus, I'd like to actually spend time with my family. It has been too long."

He put his hands on the table.

"If you change the rules, I will know. I will vanish, again. I will take my family with me. You won't be able to hide them anywhere that I can't find them, but I'll be able to hide them from you. You've already seen what I will do to protect them. You don't want me as an enemy."

Suddenly he stood up, and his manner changed to the slightly hunched and crazy man he often projected.

"But cheer up! You've done what I asked, so we'll be friends! And as we all know, there's lots of spies to play with in Southern California."

He gave an odd grin to Beckman, and walked away.

The General watched him depart and muttered under her breath, "Welcome back to the CIA, Orion."

________________________________________________________________________

Stephen sat down in the room that was going to be his home, hopefully, for awhile, and looked around approvingly.

It was a quaint little guest cottage, separated from the main house.

It would be nice to give the kids their privacy. He felt guilty enough for being there in the first place. But at least they wouldn't be ground zero where Chuck was should something happen.

And he'd be there to protect them. Him and all the devices he had put in their house. (Some that even Beckman didn't know about.)

Stephen chewed on some beef jerky while using his arm tech to locate and sabotage the surveillance. They'd get some nice harmless footage of him reading a book before nodding off. Who did they think they were kidding even thinking that they could monitor him? Morons.

That done, he opened his laptop and quickly punched in the address of his contact, who should have received his own corresponding computer by now. They exchanged the usual codes and passwords. Stephen couldn't be confident a hundred percent about anybody, but he felt pretty good here. He typed in, "So?"

Immediately, he received the return message. "So, anything is possible, but I believe she isn't Ring. She's many things, but not a traitor."

Stephen replied, "You're pretty confident about that."

Response: "Stephen, you wound me. I'm 'pretty' confident about everything. If General Beckman was the enemy, I would find out."

Stephen smiled. "Just be sure you keep finding out. Ring or not, I don't trust her."

Response: "What else is new? You never trusted anybody. Not even your wife. Oh, by the way, I've met your son."

Stephen wasn't at all surprised. He typed, "So, what did you think?"

Response: "He has the makings of a good spy. Just like us."

Stephen felt a combination of pride and sadness at this. "I suppose you encouraged him?"

Response: "Maybe a little. Sorry, he just reminded me of his old man too much. I couldn't resist."

Stephen nodded. "I forgive you."

Response: "Thank you for that, Stephen."

Stephen typed, "Thank _you_, Roan."


	3. Chapter 3

**All right! Back to Chuck and Sarah, and more angst! Thanks to all you reviewers. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! Please, keep those reviews coming.**

**Also, thanks to my wife for editing this stuff. She helped me figure out how to deal with the timeline problem I had created with Chapters 1 through 3. (I had to move things around a bit.) **

**Disclaimer: I own NOTHING! (Well, I own **_**some**_** things, but nothing that I'm writing about here in the world of Chuck.) **

**___________________________________________________________________________________  
**

_So, this is what Hell feels like._

For Chuck Bartowski, Hell was desperately wishing that the woman he loved would talk to him, and having that wish thoroughly denied.

So, he tried to talk to another person. Unfortunately, that person wasn't very happy about it, either.

"Bartowski, why are you doing this to me?"

Casey was looking at Chuck with a combination of disgust and horror.

Chuck answered, "Well, you were... y'know; you were _there_ for me before, so I thought-"

Casey interrupted, "That was a lapse. And if this is how you repay a show of support... by trying to... _talk_." He spit out the last word like venom. "Why don't you give Orion a call? Y'know, a father-son... bonding... thing?"

Chuck's face fell even more. "Dad's busy right now, and he's... well, he doesn't really have the background so much as to what's going on with Sarah and me. You've been around us. You know more than anybody else about our dynamic. For crying out loud, Casey, you have video and audio recordings of all our intimate conversations!"

Casey sneered, "And I deserve the Purple Heart AND the Medal of Honor for having to watch and listen to them!" He wished he had his price gun. It was always enjoyable threatening Bartowski with his price gun.

"Play your video games."

Chuck shook his head, sadly. "I've _tried_. It's not _working_. She's shutting me out, Casey. I can't take-"

Casey shouted in Chuck's face. "Bartowski, I.....DON'T.....CARE!!!!!"

"I think you do," Chuck said quietly.

Casey narrowed his eyes. "You're trying to get me to knock you unconscious again, aren't you? Better be, careful, Bartowski. I could go too far. Leave you a permanent cripple. Do more damage to your brain than is already there."

Chuck considered that for a second before responding, "You wouldn't do that. I'm the Intersect."

Casey growled, "You put that thing back in your head, specifically so I wouldn't be able to kick the crap out of you."

Chuck shrugged. "Yup. That's it exactly."

____________________________________________________________________________________________

"Walker, you're gonna have to talk to him."

Sarah stopped beating on her punching bag long enough to register what her partner was saying.

"Excuse me? You're telling me how to deal with Chuck?"

Casey nodded. "He needs to talk to you. He is _desperate_ to talk to you!" Casey was looking a tad desperate himself.

Sarah was incredulous. "It's only been 36 HOURS!"

Casey nodded again, his eyes gleaming. "Yeah, and he's been using most of those hours to try to talk to me about his feelings!"

In spite of herself, Sarah suppressed a laugh. Considering the misery of the past week, it felt pretty good.

Seeing her reaction, Casey said, "I _will_ hurt you, Walker."

Sarah did her best to summon up a commiserating expression, and then she stepped aside, gesturing to her punching back, in offer. Seeing this, Casey took off his jacket, gave a curt thank you to Walker, and began laying into the bag, imagining it was a certain nerd.

Sarah leaned against the wall, while watching John take out his aggressions.

She thought about poor Casey. She thought about Chuck.

She thought about what happened after the meeting.

_____________________________________________________________________

_So, this is what Hell feels like._

For Sarah Walker, Hell was leaving the conference room to find that _he_ had been waiting there, just as she knew he would be. He probably convinced Casey to leave since the older man wouldn't want to see a display of "lady feelings." Chuck being who he was, he would want to talk to her, alone.

_Always... reliable, that way._ His expression was accusatory.

"So, did you get what you want?" He was trying to affect a nonchalant tone which, of course, meant that it came out completely opposite. Sarah could tell that beneath the hurt and anger, he still desired a path toward peace with her.

Unfortunately, his final word had been very poorly chosen.

_No. I never get what I want. _

The pain washed over her with new force. She tried to push it back to assume her preferred face, without expression. She wondered if she was doing a better job at that than him.

Sarah spoke in Chuck's direction, but avoided eye contact.

"The decision is final. You and I will live together."

She watched his face knowing that a fight was occurring between relief that she was staying and anger / pain over what she had done. He was so easy to read. So honest. And he wasn't even attempting nonchalance anymore.

"Maybe, I don't want to live with you."

Sarah had been prepared for him to say that. It was understandable, considering. But it still hurt. Like all his rejections had hurt. She kept it in check.

"You don't have a choice, this time. I'm sorry." She _was_ too, but her tone didn't carry it across.

He said, "I'll talk to Beckman."

Sarah replied, "I'm sure you'll try. But even if she agrees to see you, she'll shut you down. You're going to have to accept this. I already have."

Chuck barked out a laugh that was uncharacteristic of him. Then he slumped backward in his chair.

"Sarah, why did you do this? Please, I need you to explain it to me."

Sarah felt his agony, and a not-insubstantial part of her wanted to go and hug him and tell him it would be all right.

But a larger part of her still felt hurt and betrayed. "No."

Chuck looked dumbfounded. She had always been willing to at least talk to him in the past to try to iron out their problems, even if that wasn't always successful.

"No? Sarah, we need to talk!"

She crossed her arms.

"We will. We are going to be living together. For a _long time_. We will have plenty of chances to talk, about _your_ feelings. About _my_ feelings. About everything."

She walked up so she was standing right in front of him, and she finally, _finally_ made contact with his eyes. But her expression was pitiless.

"Not now, though. I'm not ready to talk about it, now. You are just going to have to deal with that, Chuck."

They looked at each other, and for the briefest of moments, that renewed contact that he had missed (and she had too) had gotten to her. Made her vulnerable. Made her soft.

Then she shook it off, turned, and walked away from him.

________________________________________________________________________

Watching Casey, fiercely punching away, she considered how likely it was that Chuck would accept her decision. And this being Chuck, the answer was, not likely. At all.

Chuck would probably do whatever he could – use whatever method, he could – to get her to talk to him. She thought about some likely tactics he would employ.

A moment later, she said,

"You realize that he was probably deliberately playing you to get you to intervene with me."

Casey stopped punching the bag for a moment, then shouted, "That manipulative BASTARD!" He gave a few extra hard punches to the bag at the approximate height of where a man's groin would be.

Sarah raised her eyebrows, than mumbled, "Mm-hmmmm."

Casey hung on the bag for a moment, regaining his composure. "He's getting pretty good at this stuff."

Sarah nodded. "Mm-hm."

Casey added, "Wonder where he learned how to manipulate people?"

Sarah didn't respond to that one.

Leaving the bag, Casey walked over to her, and crouched down so he could be on her level. "Thing is, Walker. His approach," Casey growled, "is working."

Sarah looked at the man, and then said, "I'm not ready to talk to him, yet, John. I'll do it when I'm ready, not because he's uncomfortable."

Casey said, "You owe me, Walker. I've saved your life; I've covered for you...."

Sarah shook her head, "I've saved _your_ life, and I've covered for you too. If we want to keep a tally we can. I admit I owe you, but you're not calling it in for this." Her voice brooked no argument on the point.

Casey dipped his head. "He's driving me _insane_."

Sarah said, "I guarantee you that the pain you have is nothing compared to what Chuck and I are doing to each other. I-"

"WALKER!" he roared. "I don't want YOU talking about your feelings, _either_!"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Of course, you don't."

Casey muttered, "This is torture."

Sarah shrugged. "You've survived torture before."

Casey replied, "Thumb screws, pliers, heat, electroshock. Those are _honorable_ ways to be tortured." He gnashed his teeth. "I can't even maim him a little!"

Sarah pointed Casey back to the punching bag.

He took her up on it.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Chuck lay in bed reading a comic book. He liked the writing. Plus, it had superhuman women with anatomically impossible breasts.

He shoved it down. Wasn't helping.

He was bored. He was depressed. He was alone.

As somewhat diverting as it was messing with Casey, Chuck hadn't been lying when he said that the big man was effectively the only one he could talk to.

Dad was busy, and yeah, he hadn't been around enough to fully grasp the situation. But the real reason Chuck didn't talk to him was the sound of disappointment in Stephen Bartowski's voice whenever the two had spoken in the past week. It really wasn't fair. Dad being disappointed in _him_? Chuck had far more reason - ten year's worth - to be disappointed with his father. Chuck had forgiven his father, and should have a mountain of credit for it. Even worse, his Dad's feelings echoed what Sarah was most likely feeling, only in her case; she was expressing it by wanting to wipe the slate clean. After everything that they had gone through, for her to give up on him! It just...

She wouldn't talk to him now. When was she going to talk to him? How was he supposed to concentrate when he was thinking about this every single minute of every day? He let his head fall down on the pillow.

It was early yet. He wasn't especially tired. But... sleep would be the only refuge he could get.

He reached over to turn off the lamp, when suddenly something caught his eye. He leaned over, grabbed the lamp and looked closely at it. After two years of this, he had gotten quite skilled at spotting the bugs. Casey knew this so didn't even try to hide them that well. Chuck smiled, and turned off the light.

He put his head on his pillow and relaxed for a long conversation. As if speaking to nobody in particular he began.

"So, I guess my feelings started for Sarah the moment she walked into the Buy More. I was on the phone and Morgan was trying to get my attention..."

____________________________________________________________________________________________

In the other room, Casey had just come back with his evening meal which consisted of Scotch and a Stouffers frozen dinner.

He was chewing on his first bite, when he switched the audio on, and listened.

A piece of Salisbury Steak fell from his mouth and hit the desk.

Casey whispered, "No."

_So, this is what Hell feels like._


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi all! Back with more Postcard goodness (or angstness, whatever you prefer). Thanks for the reviews as always. Hopefully, you will find some story progression with this chapter. Thanks as always to my wife for her editing support.**

**Disclaimer #1) I don't own Chuck or any of the show's characters, whether they are loved or despised.**

**Disclaimer #2) I use the words "look" and "nod" far too much in this story. **

**_______________________________________________________________________________________________________**

Chuck was out of his wheelchair the next day.

Though still using crutches, he didn't require the painkillers anymore. The physical therapy was definitely having a positive impact.

The healing of Chuck's body was also helping alleviate some of his depression (though not entirely). His anxiety was markedly reduced. He actually felt a bit relaxed.

The same could not exactly be said of John Casey.

When he saw the Colonel, Chuck waved and gave a cheery hello.

Casey just stared at him. The big man's right eye was twitching.

Chuck wisely decided to give Casey some space.

Aside from driving his handler to the point of psychosis, Chuck's several-hour oral autobiography, entitled "Sarah and Me" was therapeutic in that it helped give Chuck a sense of perspective.

Their relationship was a roller coaster, no question. But that was to be expected with passion... right? And few people had the kind of complicating factors to their relationship that he and Sarah had. The fact that they hadn't killed each other - well, OK, the fact that she hadn't killed him - was a testament to hope for them.

He also couldn't deny that Sarah _had_, in fact, confessed her feelings for him. He tried to push away the thought that she had done so as a means to get the Hell away from him. During the confrontation afterward, she had not denied those feelings like she would have done in the past. In fact, she brought them up again! And she even said that they would discuss those feelings at a later time. He just had to wait until she was ready to do so.

Well, he could do _that_. After all, he loved Sarah, and if she needed time to sort things out, then he was going to support her wishes. He was strong enough to do that.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"So, are you ready to talk about it?" Chuck innocently asked.

"Nope," Sarah answered.

It was the third time he had asked her that day.

They were sitting in a small office, sorting through various photographs and files. Now that Chuck didn't have drugs flowing through his system, Beckman wanted to finally begin testing the new Intersect. They started him with new photos and data in hopes that he would flash on possible Ring agents within the government. This provided no results, however, and after a few hours, they showed Chuck pictures of known terrorists to ensure that the Intersect was functional in the first place. It certainly appeared to be. Chuck flashed on all pictures where he was expected to flash. After that, he returned to the unknowns. Sarah had been assigned to monitor this task, Casey having requested sick leave.

Chuck had initially been anxious about what it would be like working in close proximity with her. He didn't think he could handle it if she wouldn't even meet his eyes. That hadn't been a problem though. It wasn't that she was acting particularly warm or friendly, but neither was she especially cold. When he'd say something, she'd make eye contact, and he wasn't always the one who had to initiate conversation. The topics were restricted to small talk or business, but when he'd make a joke, she'd smile or laugh a little. All in all, she was acting very.... professional.

The first time he asked had been suddenly in the middle of a discussion about a recent movie he'd seen. Anybody aware of what was going on might have been under the impression that he'd been trying to take Sarah by surprise, but in reality, Chuck was more surprised than she that he had brought it up.

She hadn't skipped a beat or changed her expression. She simply said, "No." Then she continued on asking about "Pan's Labyrinth" as if the subject hadn't almost been changed. He went along with her.

An hour later, he asked again after telling a joke that she seemed to like. She shook her head, then repeated his punch line to herself, while she walked away to get them some lunch.

He asked the third time after giving her a compliment, and although she refused, she thanked him for his kind words. Chuck considered adding an additional compliment, specifically, "You're beautiful, when you're robotic."

He stopped himself, just barely.

After that, they decided to call it a day.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The next morning saw Chuck being picked up by Casey, back on the job.

Casey seemed slightly less frazzled than the day before, but Chuck decided to not press his luck by attempting too much conversation, though he _did_ ask to where they were driving.

"It's a surprise, Bartowski. Gotta give you some excitement in your otherwise dull existence."

Chuck raised his eyebrows, but didn't respond. Instead, he allowed himself to doze off for a bit. (He hadn't slept very well the prior evening.)

Not too long afterward, he felt Casey nudging him. "Wake up. We're here."

Chuck opened his eyes gingerly, adapting to the sunlight, and seeing-

His eyes shot wide open.

They were in the parking lot... of a Buy More.

"GAH!" Chuck began to point a shaking finger at the store.

Casey said, "Relax, Moron, you don't have to work here. We're just visiting."

Briefly assuaged, Chuck got out of the car with his crutches, and began following Casey.

He didn't know why they were here. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

When they walked into the place, Chuck immediately noted the layout and its differences with Burbank. This branch was cleaner, organized, and almost rigid in its structure. In fact-

"Hello!" A voice - freakishly familiar - startled Chuck from his thoughts. He turned to find a short, completely bald, Asian man approaching them. This man was dressed in the garb of Store Manager. That and the pleasant smile he sported didn't seem quite "right" on his face, but even so, Chuck gasped, and began to speak.

"H-H-Hhhhha-" Before Chuck could successfully get the word out, the man caught his eye, grabbed his hand, shook it firmly, and said, "I'm Terry Wang, Sir! Pleased to meet you!"

Chuck stopped and mouthed the two words of the name that had just been given to him.

Casey briefly gave Chuck a meaningful look, then turned and shook the Asian man's hand. "It's good to see you again, Mr. Wang. I understand you've prepared a demonstration for my Client?"

"Terry Wang" said, "Of course! If you would please follow me?"

He led them into the home theater room, then pulled out a remote, which when pressed, caused the inner curtains to close so nobody from the outside of the room could see them. He then pressed another button. A soft whirring began as the couch in the room slid aside a few feet revealing a platform. Casey stood on the platform and nodded. The platform began to descend. Before Casey's head disappeared, he looked to Chuck and said, "You're next."

The moment Casey had vanished completely, "Terry Wang" turned on Chuck, his expression changed to something very sour and much more familiar.

"So, Chuck. I always knew bad things would happen to you. It appears I was right." He pointed to the crutches. "If you were the type to show a little _discipline_, perhaps you'd be able to avoid such _accidents_ befalling you. But soft guys like you just never learn, _do_ you?"

Chuck opened his mouth. Then closed it again.

"Wang" looked at Chuck with utter contempt, then said. "Platform's ready for you. Look alive, why don't you?"

Chuck turned and sure enough the platform was there. He stepped on to it, crutches and all, and observed as the other man pressed a button and watched Chuck descend.

As he went down, Chuck began muttering to himself. "It's the ghost of Buy More Past. Next I'm going to see Big Mike in his Santa outfit, followed by Jeff and Lester wearing Jeffster T-Shirts done in the style of the Grateful Dead... And... and Jeff'll be holding a scythe, and-"

"Bartowski!" Chuck was shaken out of his waking nightmare to find that he had reached the bottom floor. It looked EXACTLY like the Castle in Burbank. Casey motioned for Chuck to follow, saying, "Go crazy on your own time."

Chuck started to go along, but then stopped, saying, "Wait, wait, wait. Hold it."  
He looked at Casey, and pointed a finger back to the area from which the platform had descended.

Casey said, "Oh yeah. He caught his wife cheating on him shortly after they got to Hawaii, but she got a better lawyer, and he lost the pineapple farm. Anyway, we had to put him somewhere, and the best place was D.C. where our people could keep a better eye on him. We ran a background check, and determined he was patriotic and safe enough to monitor the entrance to the Castle here. And the way he manages his employees, the turnover is high enough so nobody is ever around long enough to get wise. The Terry Wang alias was my idea." Casey grinned.

Chuck replied, "Of course it was. So..." He looked around. "Another Castle under another Buy More?"

Casey answered, "Turns out all Buy Mores have a structural layout with the undergrounds being perfect for government needs. C'mon, I'll show you what we're here for."

He led Chuck through a door to a wall of metal drawers that looked an awful lot like - Casey pulled one of the drawers out and Chuck blanched at its contents.

"A morgue? You're using Castle space... for a morgue? How many of these drawers are filled?"

Casey said, "Most of 'em. Let's go. This is going to take awhile."

Drawer by drawer, Chuck and Casey went through the bodies, and checked them against the last possessions that had been on those bodies at the time of death.

Chuck flashed. And flashed. And flashed. For every... single.... one. After it was all over, he had quite the headache.

He sipped some water as he gave Casey his report. "Fulcrum. Every one of them is Fulcrum. Did you find them all in the same place?"

Casey said, "No. They've been turning up all over the city in the last few days. Methods of assassination differ. Similar discoveries are happening throughout the country."

Chuck pointed to the remains of a portly man near the top of the cabinets. "That one was a CEO of a biochem plant. He's also not just Fulcrum. He's something called an Elder. What is that, like a Fulcrum VP or something?"

Casey nodded slowly. "We needed you to confirm what we suspected. Good work. Let's get back and report to the General, immediately."

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"A purge," stated Beckman.

Casey nodded. "At all levels."

Beckman's gaze gradually took in Chuck, Casey, and Walker.

"We shouldn't be too surprised," she said. "Fulcrum has taken some mortal wounds in the last two years. If it is only one part of this Ring, it only makes sense, perhaps, that the larger body would wish to rid itself of a cancer."

Chuck winced at the comparison. As miserable as they had made him, Fulcrum was comprised of people. He said, "Um.... Excuse me. How many folks are we talking about here? That are being killed?"

Beckman shrugged, "Hundreds. Thousands. We never were able to fully grasp the size of Fulcrum as an organization. Only that in presented a serious and ongoing threat. Well... not anymore. Now they're probably running scared."

Sarah leaned in and said, "What if we were to find some of the runners and have them turn State's against the Ring? What about the prisoners we've captured over the last two years?"

Beckman replied, "I'm guessing that only the top leaders of Fulcrum knew of the Ring's existence, and those would have been targeted first. As for the prisoners... We were keeping the Fulcrum prisoners in a secure, centralized location. Well, there was an... an incident a couple of nights ago. A couple of men working at the location went on a spree. They took out all the Fulcrum prisoners, before then killing themselves."

Sarah sat down, quiet. Chuck's mouth had fallen open. "But... ALL of them? Ned? Lizzie?"

Beckman looked at him, and said, "All of them. If there are Fulcrum to be turned to our side, they're out there, at large, and trying to stay alive."

A face immediately leapt into Chuck's mind. He did his best to burn it away. He didn't turn his head. He felt Sarah watching him.

Beckman continued. "We can't waste anymore time. Mr. Bartowski, we have a little more than a week remaining before this team returns to Burbank. Your training schedule must pick up immediately. I understand from your physician that you should be able to forego your crutches by tomorrow."

Chuck said, "Um..... OK?"

Beckman said, "Colonel Casey and Agent Walker will be in charge of your training curriculum. Between now and the time your return to the West Coast, we will be rigorously assessing your new capabilities. Three days from now will be when we determine if you can demonstrate similar martial arts talents as you had shown before."

Chuck's eyes widened. "But... but doing that stuff is how I wound up in the hospital! I've got to train for what? Two years or something like that before my body can handle that?"

Beckman said, "Mr. Bartowski, you _will_ undergo rigorous physical conditioning to be sure. However, we do not have the luxury of waiting until you are a perfect physical specimen-"

She was cutoff by a near-chortle from Casey. Beckman closed her eyes for a second, ignored it, then continued.

"-Until your body is fully ready to withstand the rigors of these new talents. We are not about to 'bench' you for that time. We need you, _now_. Besides, better to see what happens to you here, then in the field where a surprise could mean the deaths of you and your team."

Chuck looked uneasy. "I guess... that makes... sense. Um.... Who... who will be testing me on the kung fu?"

Beckman said, "That task will fall to Colonel Casey."

Chuck's eyes bulged out even further. He looked at Sarah. Her eyes were also wide.

They both looked at Casey. He was grinning in a most disturbing manner.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The next two days were busy ones for Team Bartowski.

Flight simulators. Chuck did all right considering his prior video game experience, but nothing amazing.

Driving simulators. Casey decided that he would never allow Chuck to drive the Vic.

Time on the firing range. Chuck missed his target completely, but managed to hit another person's target, two sheets away from his. Casey said that he was impressed.

Knife throwing. Sarah helped with this one. She helped guide him on the proper way to hold a blade, to line it up for a shot and to release. It was the only physical contact they had with each other since the night of the wedding. Chuck missed every throw, but Sarah was supportive. Afterward, he asked her if they could talk. She refused.

Evasive maneuvers. Chuck was shot multiple times with paint pellets. Casey was in a very good mood after that, so he bought Chuck lunch.

Moving silently, hiding, and tailing. Casey said that it was like being followed by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

So it was by the third day that Chuck Bartowski entered the mat room feeling thoroughly depressed and humiliated, and not looking forward to more, especially as _this_ time came with the promise of more physical pain.

He looked in the mirror at himself in gi with white belt and wondered how long the torture would go on.

Behind the mirror, Sarah watched Chuck's face. Her heart was killing her. Every time he had failed in the last two days, he had looked at her, and she had wanted to let it all go; to let go of the anger and to just... be with him. Indeed, that last time he had asked her to talk, she was _this_ close to giving in. She reminded herself why she was holding out, but her logical rationalizations were continuously lessening in volume. That seemed to always be the way he would affect her. She took a deep breath. She wondered if she should insist on being the one to help with the martial arts. Realized how that would go. She relented.

Casey walked into the room next to her. She was about to open her mouth and say, "Please don't hurt him." No sound came out.

Casey turned his head and noticed the expression on her face. He smirked. Shaking his head, he left her side, and went through the door.

Chuck was there. He appeared shaken, but also defiant. Casey smiled.

"All right, Bartowski. I'm going to make this easy on you. You know how much you've pissed me off recently. And you know what I can do to you. Be honest. You feel threatened?"

Chuck paused, then said, "Yes."

Casey replied, "Well, that's good. See, you haven't been able to activate any new talents of yours, if you have 'em. I'm thinking the reason for that is because those abilities may only arise if you, or the Intersect, feel threatened. And in the tests you took before, you weren't being threatened. Except for when we shot you up with the paint balls. That was a threat, but nothing kicked in."

Chuck licked his lips and said, "Yeah, that's true. But I knew I wasn't going to get killed by paint balls."

Casey said, "We can't wait until you're in danger of being killed to see if you can do stuff. Otherwise, we're gonna have to keep you in that car. You want that?"

Chuck shook his head.

Casey said, "Good. Then, come at me."

Chuck rushed at Casey. He stopped in front of the bigger man, and began punching.  
In the gut, in the side, at Casey's face. It was this last one, where Chuck pulled his hand back, yelling in pain.

Sarah shook her head in the other room. No. The punches were feeble. He had terrible form. It was like watching a child try to fight for the first time.

Casey stepped back. "Don't punch me in the face, Chuck. Better men than you have tried. C'mon, let's go."

Chuck rushed forward again, this time directing his punches at Casey's chest. After 10 seconds of this, the bigger man picked Chuck up and threw him head over feet onto the mat.

Chuck pulled himself up into a sitting position. His breathing was labored.

Casey said, "Chuck, do you believe me when I say I _will_ hurt you?"

Chuck stood up and dove at his handler.

Casey punched him in the stomach.

As Chuck doubled-over, Sarah let out a moan behind the mirror. She was shaking her head, her mouth moving silently. Tears were starting to form in her eyes.

Chuck sat on the ground for two minutes, clutching his gut. He was fighting for air.

Chuck spat out, "You [huff] wouldn't [koff] kill me!"

Casey grabbed Chuck by the shoulder and hair and then slammed Chuck's body against the wall. He snarled, "You don't know what I'm capable of doing!" Then he put his hands around Chuck's neck and started to squeeze.

A moment later, Sarah bolted into the room.

"NO!!! That's enough! Get away from him!"

She grabbed Casey's right arm, forgetting all defensive practices in her fear for Chuck.

A second later, Casey's elbow smashed her in the face, and she went down.

Casey turned his head to look at Walker. At that moment, he felt Chuck go rigid in his left hand.

The Colonel looked back, and saw that Bartowski's eyes were fluttering. Casey said, "Oh, sh-"

Chuck's fists came around on either side to smash Casey in both of his ears.

Casey let go of Chuck. Then resisting the temptation to grab his own ears, Casey jumped forward to grapple.

Chuck shot under Casey's grip and chopped his hand into Casey's throat.

Then he followed up with a forward kick to Casey's groin.

The Colonel stumbled two steps backward. Then he toppled face down into the mat.

Chuck moved forward, leaned down, and brought his fist crashing into Casey's head.

His arm was raised again, when Sarah grabbed him.

"Stop! He's down, Chuck! He's down!"

Chuck stood for a moment, rigid. He looked at Sarah, then he turned back to look at Casey.

Then, his strings cut, Chuck fell onto the mat himself.

He lolled his head around, looking at Casey.

"Ooooooohhhh... John.... Are you.... OK?"

Chuck and Sarah both stared at Casey's prone form, then heard a rumbling.

"Nnnnnggghh.... Yeah.... I'm...pretty good. Ugghhhhhh..... You?"

Relieved that Casey had said something, Chuck responded, "Uhhhh.... I'm in.... a lotta.... pain."

A moment later, Casey groaned, "Well.... thas.... good."

Chuck nodded with effort. He suddenly noticed that Sarah was cradling his body. His eyes captured hers. She seemed... so concerned for him. He said, "Hey."

She was silent for a moment, then said, "Hey."

Chuck whined, "Could we _please_ talk now?"

Sarah looked at him, at his eyes, and she said, "Yeah, I guess we can do that."

Slowly, she helped Chuck stand, and putting his arm around her shoulder started to walk him out of the room. "Besides," she added, "We'd better do that before John gets more hurt."

They left the room and let the door closed behind them.

Casey still lying face down on the floor muttered, "Thank you."

________________________________________________________________________

It was later that afternoon that Casey met with Beckman. He had cold packs cradling various parts of his body. He had prepared them in advance.

Beckman dispassionately let her eyes wander to Casey's injuries, then said, "Well?"

Casey nodded. "It's what we thought. Danger to him won't activate it. It took Walker getting beaned to rev him up. Good thing she came into the room when she did. Much longer and I could have seriously hurt him."

Beckman smiled grimly. "Well, I'm glad we kept her around. If her being in peril is the only way to activate the Intersect's offensive capabilities."

Casey said, "That's not really a viable situation. Bartowski could get shot or kidnapped before Walker is in any kind of danger."

Beckman said, "Maybe we just need to manufacture ways to make her seem threatened before that happens."

Casey couldn't hide the look of incredulity on his face.

Beckman appeared cross. "Well, we'll have to think of something, Colonel, because Bartowski _will_ be in the field."

Slowly, Casey nodded.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Quarter to midnight.

The ring had been hocked almost immediately, giving her enough money to leave the country if she had wanted to.

Unfortunately, her fears of the unknown had taken her, just as they always had. Since college, Fulcrum had been her guiding force. She just didn't know anymore how to function without them giving her direction.

So, it had taken her awhile, but she had come back. She was going to implement an escape plan to get back the man who would tell her what to do.

But none of that mattered now.

Leader was dead. All the ones she had known - ALL of them were dead.

And she was about to be added to their number.

The dogs at her heels, she ran, knowing that she wouldn't make it.

It had been an hour, through the woods, and she had long surpassed her second wind, when she made it to the highway.

Her hunter was there a moment later, standing in front of her while she vainly attempted to catch her breath.

She looked into the sites of the gun that would end her, and thought, "_Sorry, Chuck._"

Then a car ran over her hunter and his gun. Her eyes widened. She stepped back.

The door opened. She looked at the compact body of a balding man. She thought he might be younger than he appeared, but the rigors of a hard life seemed to have taken their toll on him. He said, "Nice to not be the one run over for once."

He gestured to the passenger seat, and said,

"Come with me-"

The part of her that was a nerd took over. "If I want to live?" She asked faintly.

The man nodded, not cracking a smile.

She got in the car. It took off.

And that was how Jill Roberts and Vincent Smith ended up on the run together.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**So, another chapter down. I must be getting cocky, thinking I can get away with bringing Jill into a story, when so many people hate this character. Ah well. **

**I also want to acknowledge the Authors Intersect and their story, **_**Chuck vs the Terrible, Horrible, NG,Really Bad Day.**_** Guys, if you read this, I swear that I am not deliberately trying to steal from your story. (As if I could. You've been at this longer than I have, and your stuff is far, FAR better.) I was planning on using Vincent, and then I banged my head against the monitor when I realized you were using Vincent in your latest chapter. I'm sorry! I wanna play with the cool toys too, and you're using so many of them! **

**Finally, YES, Chuck and Sarah will finally talk next chapter. I'm not looking forward (crap, another use of the word "look"!) to writing that one. Not sure if I'll be able to pull it off to my or anybody else's satisfaction. But, I'll do the best I can, and we'll see. (Hah! "See!" Different than "look".) **


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter was very difficult to write. My wife (bless her) helped me get through a few drafts so that this would at least be legible. ******** That said, I honestly don't know what y'all are gonna think. Are Chuck and Sarah written even remotely in character? Well, my take on them is only one possible interpretation. You may like it. You may despise it. I will say that I am very thankful that I do not own these characters. Way too much responsibility. I have enough difficulty being responsible for myself. BTW, I changed the rating to teen due to some profanity. **

**As always, thanks for reading, and for reviewing! **

**All right, here we go. **

**_______________________________________________________________________________________________________ **

Sarah and Chuck made their way back to her temporary apartment.

After seeing that he was sitting comfortably, and tending to his bruises, Sarah swept the room for surveillance as she did everyday. Satisfied that they were clear, she made them coffee, and prepared pasta and greens for dinner.

She would periodically meet his eyes. His expression was nervous and expectant.

She was terrified but resolved.

Though he wanted to start immediately, she required that they eat first.

After that, she sat on the couch next to him.

He began. "I appreciate you finally agreeing to talk to me, Sarah. I want to get past this so bad. I think-"

"Chuck," she held up her right hand in a stopping gesture. Once he had done so, she said, "I'm sorry, but you have a habit of talking a bit too much sometimes. If we're doing this, I'm going to need to be the one to speak for awhile, and I need you to not interrupt me. You know... how _hard_ it is for me to do this kind of thing. I am going to be struggling here. I'm probably going to say some things you will not like. I will give you a chance to respond when I'm done, but if we're going to talk, I'm going to need your help getting through this. Are you OK with that?"

Though he appeared anxious, he agreed.

"All right." Sarah took a deep breath. "Thank you. The reason I haven't been willing to discuss this before now is I've been trying to figure out over the past few days _how_ to say it."

Even though he didn't voice it, there was a question in his eyes. She tried to answer what she thought he would ask. "But I still haven't figured out exactly how to do it."

Chuck answered with a smile of reassurance. Sarah had mixed feelings about that. He was already being sweet, and that just made it harder for her to say the things she knew would hurt him.

But they had to be said.

"Chuck, since the day I first met you, you've shown me that you're one of the most selfless people I've ever met. The first time was when you helped out that little ballerina. You've been like that, constantly. Risking your life for your sister, for Morgan…" She was about to say another word, but then stopped, turning her eyes away from him momentarily. "You've gone so far above and beyond what's been asked of you for this country, and you never think of your own safety in doing it. Well, even if you do think of it, you never let that get in your way. Though I really wish you would sometimes."

"So selfless," these last words were so soft as to almost be a whisper, "except for me."

Chuck sat there in utter shock. Then he sputtered, "Wait. Hold it-"

"Chuck," Sarah said.

"How can you-"

"Chuck."

"I've saved your life more than once. I've tried to support you! I-"

"CHUCK!"

Her yell brought him back into silence.

She said, "You agreed."

His expression was mutinous, but he made a gesture for her to continue.

She knew holding back wasn't going to be easy for him. It wasn't even realistic. This was _Chuck_. How could she honestly expect him to just sit there and take it without defending himself? But every word coming from her was a struggle, when her natural response would be to lie or to flee.

Well, she had tried running. Beckman had removed that as an option. And now, Sarah was finding herself not wanting to run. So the only choice she had was to talk to him. But every look from him was making it _harder_. Sarah felt almost nauseous. She pushed on.

"I know you've saved my life. And Casey's. And yes, you've been a support to me. I'm not denying that." She took another breath. "But ultimately, Chuck, when it comes to me, you've been very selfish."

He kept his mouth closed, but she could almost hear his teeth grinding. She continued.

"While I haven't always been one hundred percent honest, I've tried my best to be straight with you about our relationship from the beginning. I've told you that it couldn't work, and why. And you kept pursuing me in spite of that. And every time I had to reject you, you treated me like I had betrayed you, like I had the _gall_ to treat my job to protect you as more important than the feelings you had for me. Never mind that fact that my work has been my whole life. Never mind that for me to enter a relationship with you would be a breach of ethics that would endanger you _and_ me. You never understood that, because for you, love or whatever feelings you've had, is the end all be all. That's why your feelings about Bryce, Jill, and Stanford kept you paralyzed for five years."

The look he gave her now was as if she had been the one to punch him this time. She didn't want to hurt him bringing up that awful chapter in his life. She _really _didn't, but it was necessary for him to understand what was going on with her; what he was doing to make her feel this way. Sarah kept telling herself that. She forced herself to keep talking.

"So, it's always been easy from your perspective to say that our feelings come before everything else, and to accuse me of being an emotionless robot because I wouldn't do the same. You never considered the cost to me. _Never_."

His silent stare spoke volumes to her. Who was _she_ to talk? She was being a selfish bitch, and hurting him. She couldn't believe how he was making her feel, just with his eyes. It was completely unfair. She was making the accusations, and _he_ was still making her feel like shit!

She remembered every sad, disappointed reaction of his. How she had told him "No," over and over, wanting to say "Yes." And she had taken it all on.

Until Ellie's wedding night, and what he had done to himself. To her. Sarah's fingernails were biting into her hands. Anger and grief were winning again. She was losing control.

Sarah began raising her voice without realizing it. "And, y'know what, Chuck? In spite of it all; in spite of you _never_ staying in the car, not listening to me or Casey; in spite of the way you could hurt me so often; in spite of the fact that it's entirely against your interest and mine, I FELL FOR YOU, ANYWAY!" She was angrily wiping her eyes. "And I didn't just fall for _you_. No, no, no. I fell for everything you _wanted_. You constantly talking about your _normal _life. I started wanting that! I wanted it with you! And I was going to give up everything I've ever known so I could have that with you. And then you just... you just FUCKED IT ALL UP!!!" She was sobbing, now. She could barely make out his features through the tears.

Chuck stared at Sarah in shock. It wasn't just the sudden uncharacteristic explosion of emotion. It wasn't just the confession of her feelings so long unsaid. It was the realization of what she was saying, of what she had wanted, and what he had taken from her.

His mouth dropped open.

"Oh..... God," he moaned.

She couldn't stop crying. The dam was broken.

"Oh God. Sarah.... Oh God, I didn't- I didn't _know_!" But the moment he said that, Bryce's last words came crashing into Chuck's mind. Sarah was going to stay. Had Chuck not believed him, because it was Bryce talking, or because those words had just seemed so beyond the realm of possibility? Or had the horror of Bryce's passing wiped those words from Chuck's mind? One way or the other, he had dismissed what Bryce had said. Entirely. "Oh God," he whispered.

He watched Sarah cry. He wondered if he should put his arms around her, try to comfort her, but would she push him away, or hit him if he tried? He decided it hardly mattered. He wasn't going to let her go through this pain without at least trying. He tentatively reached out with his hands. Fortunately, he didn't have to reach too far. The second he touched her, she pushed herself into his body, clutching on to him, her face and tears pressed against his chest.

For minutes, they sat. He gently stroked her back. He fought back the urge to kiss her forehead, fearing that would be too much. Gradually, her breathing came under control, the tears began to subside. He felt her relax into him.

It was still some time before Chuck felt it was safe to speak. That had given him enough time to figure out what to do. The solution was obvious after all. He spoke softly to her. "I'm going to fix this, Sarah. I'll work with Dad; we'll get it taken out."

Sarah breathed in his touch, his words. Gradually, she was finding her pain subsiding to be replaced by a feeling of clarity. He _would_ do what he said. He wouldn't stop until he had achieved it, no matter the consequences. He would do this for her.

She slowly pulled away from him. Not far. Her hands were still holding his sides. Her eyes met his. For the first time in awhile, she felt calm.

"No." She shook her head. "You can't remove the Intersect, Chuck. You need to promise me you won't do that."

Now, he was utterly confused. "I don't… I thought you wanted…" Chuck was at a loss. He thought about what he had wanted to say. What she knew. Oh Hell, it wasn't as if finally saying it was going to make things that much worse than they already were. "But I love you. I want to be with you. _Nothing_ is more important than that!"

He saw her face soften as he said the words, but she shook her head. "You're wrong. There is something more important, and you know it."

Chuck whispered, "What do I know?"

Sarah responded, "Why did you upload the Intersect?"

Shaking his head, he said, "I don't... I don't know."

She said, "You do. And you didn't do it because of me." Though the words sounded accusatory, the tone was not. He looked at her face. There was only support there, now.

Patiently, she said, "You did it because it had to be done. It was the right thing to do."

Chuck felt abashed, and replied, "When I said that, I didn't mean it. I was just trying to come up with some kind of answer to my father."

Sarah shook her head and smiled. "You _did_ mean it. Even if you didn't realize it, even if you don't realize it now, that's why you did it. Because you know what has to be done, and you do what has to be done and what's right. You may not know it in your head, but you know it where it counts."

Chuck looked at her with disbelief. The turn in her attitude; where had it come from? He wasn't following that shift, or her reasoning. "How do you know that?"

She placed her forehead on his chest and said, "It may not seem like it, but I know you pretty well. Well, except for the part where I thought you really wanted to be normal."

Chuck absently let his fingers stroke her hair while he replied. "I understand that. I thought I knew _you_ pretty well, except for the part where I didn't realize you _wanted_ to be normal." He frowned for a moment. "Maybe 'normal' is the whole problem. It just screws everything up."

He felt her laugh lightly against him. She said, "Yeah, maybe it does."

He paused, then said, "I am so sorry, Sarah. I am just…" He was having difficulty talking.

She pulled her face away from his body, only to pull _his_ face down toward her so their foreheads were touching.

"I know," she said. "I'm sorry I was so awful to you."

Chuck smiled. "You were due. You were holding that in for awhile. Are you feeling better now?"

She returned his smile. "I am. I don't want to do that again anytime soon, but yeah, I feel a lot better for getting it out of my system." She paused and then added, "It _does_ make me feel good knowing that you'd be willing to give up the Intersect for me."

Chuck said, "That offer's always good, you know. Anytime you want me to quit. If I can quit…"

She said, "I know. Thank you."

He took a deep breath, preparing for the next part. "So, what now? Are we friends, again? Do you need me to give you more space? I meant it when I said that I could try to talk to Beckman. I don't want to force you to stay here." He pulled back so he could fully look into her eyes. "I'll do whatever _you_ want."

She matched his gaze and nodded. "I want... to be with _you_. I want to give the real thing a try."

Chuck smiled, but still felt uncertain.

Sarah's face took on a determined edge. She said, "I want to make this clear so you know where I'm coming from. I am not doing this because Beckman ordered me to stay. I am not doing this as a means to make you keep the Intersect. I am not doing this to get you to better follow my directions when we're on missions, or for any other reason, than that I want to be with you. I have lied to you before, and I can't promise I'm not going to lie about some things in the future." She caressed his cheeks with her hands. "I am not lying about this. Do you believe me?"

Chuck smiled widely, his uncertainty gone. "Yes."

Slowly, they moved forward, letting their foreheads rest together against each other once more.

Chuck said, "This isn't going to stop us from having problems."

Sarah said, "Believe me, I know."

Chuck said, "And I'm not going to be able to give you the 'normal' you were hoping for. I'll do the best I can though."

She said, "That sounds nice. Between missions we'll have nice family dinners with Ellie and Devon." Sarah leaned in and kissed Chuck.

When she broke the kiss, he said, "We'll play board games like Life, Trivial Pursuit, Monopoly…" He kissed her back.

After a moment she said, "Mmmm, I don't like Monopoly. How about Parcheesi?"

Chuck said, "Mm-hmmmmm" into her lips. Then he said, "Movie nights with pizza and popcorn."

"Cuddling."

"Making out on the couch..."

They didn't talk for awhile after that.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**Hello? Anybody still with me? Well, if you are, thanks for sticking around! Assuming that my profile is not burned in effigy after this, I plan to continue. However, this chapter officially ends "Chuck Vs. the Postcard" or "Part One". After a short break, the story shall pick up with our heroes returning to Burbank and various plot threads to explore. I've just gotta figure out the title for "Part Two". **


End file.
